Letters

There are three definites in life: death and taxes and Mike Keenan crashing and burning on every job he takes.
MIKE SHORE, SUFFERN, N.Y.

Singing the Blues
St. Louis hockey fans need to stop their crying and start supporting the man who is trying to lead their hockey team to the promised land. Keenan has one mission: to assemble a group of guys who have the ability to win every time they step on the ice. Granted, he often has as much heart as a chunk of coal, but everyone knew that when he was brought in. The only things that matters is that all three of Keenan's previous teams went to the Stanley Cup finals.
CHRIS WILDER, Glendale Heights, Ill.

Mike Keenan is trying to build the Blues the way Jimmy Johnson built the 1990s Cowboys. Blues fans should have a lot to look forward to.
MARCY NUNNS, Irving Texas

Mamo Wolde
In his story about the imprisoned Ethiopian runner, Mamo Wolde (The End of the World, Dec. 4), Kenny Moore has again proved to be an insightful and sensitive observer of the human condition. Having lived in Addis Ababa during the last years of the Mengistu regime, I met many intelligent and humane people who were in government service. When faced with Ethiopia's abject poverty, few of us would have made another choice.

Mamo Wolde was a pawn in Mengistu's cruel hold over Ethiopia. We should all cry out for his release, even as we ask our leaders to press Zimbabwe, where Mengistu fled, for the delivery of Mengistu to the International War Crimes Tribunal.
TED GRENDA, Snowmass Village, Colo.

I congratulate you on an article that captures the essence of the Olympic spirit, the spirit that brings together people from different countries and cultures and puts them in an arena where the common experience is more valuable than the medals.
BILL WILDE, Carol Stream, Ill.

Travis Roy
Once again SI has reminded us that there is so much more to athletics than the tales the scoreboards tell. Travis Roy's story (Eleven Seconds, Nov. 20), although heart-wrenching, is a tribute to the off-the-field necessities for any great athlete—love, hope and an unyielding spirit. Our hearts are with Travis as he struggles to recover, and with his family as they remain strong. Thanks, SI, for continuing to focus on what is really important.
NIKKI MAGAZINER, Lexington, Va.

Not Your Ordinary Joe
After reading Peter King's article about the NFC's Super Bowl domination of the AFC (What Parity? Dec. 4), I thought my issue must have been missing a page or two—or at least a couple of columns. There were paragraphs galore about the three "geniuses" responsible for the NFC's winning 11 straight Super Bowls, Bill Walsh, Bill Parcells and Jimmy Johnson, but hardly any mention of a coach who, in the minds of many, was as good as any of them—Joe Gibbs. Gibbs's Washington Redskins won two of those 11 Super Howls and was arguably the second-most-dominant team—after the 49ers—of the 1980s and early '90s, but his name appeared exactly twice in the whole article. "Throw in Joe Gibbs...." was how King worked his name into one paragraph. Joe Gibbs is much more than that. And his '83 Redskins, known mainly for being the last NFC team to lose a Super Bowl, was one of the most dominant teams of all time. They set the record for most points in a season (541) and had one of the NFL's most impressive defenses (a plus-43 turnover differential).

Gibbs was the architect of that team, and his three Super Bowl victories (with three different quarterbacks) are a testament to his coaching prowess. He deserves more than an oh-by-the-way kind of reference in any article about coaching geniuses.
PAUL STUTZ, Syosset, N.Y.

Potent Potion
All who try to understand college basketball and its maddening March upsets had to enjoy Alexander Wolff's Chemistry 101 (Nov. 27). However, left out was the most combustible team of all time: the 1990 Loyola Marymount NCAA tournament team (shown above, moments before the tip-off). The Lions destroyed, by a score of 149-115, the heavily favored defending national champion Michigan Wolverines. Of course, Loyola was influenced by the most powerful chemical of all—selfless love for a fallen teammate, Hank Gathers.
DAVE WILKINS, Newark, Del.